King Solomon's Ring
by TheArcher7741
Summary: Wolfram and Hart hires an assassin for private security, and gets more than they bargained for when they learn what this assassin really is. Lindsey wants to know how he fits in to this.And Angel just wants the ring.
1. In Danger

**Guess who's back? Back again? Archer's back! Tell a friend! Did you miss me? I got a new laptop for Christmas, so now I can write again! I've really missed my Tamora Pierce stories, but now I have a new obsession, in the form of the Buffy and Angel- verse. Or, I guess, the Whedon-verse. Whatever. So, here's an Angel fan fiction, with an original character. She's the only thing I own. If I owned anything else, the world would be very different indeed. So, message, review, and give me feedback! On ANYTHING. Really. I want to hear from you! Enjoy!**

Lindsey cursed as he tried to write with his left hand. He slammed the pen down on his desk and jumped to his feet, sending his chair backwards. He pushed his left hand through his hair in anger to prevent himself from punching the nearest inanimate object. He heard a knock on his office door, and before he could open it, Lilah barged in. As if his evening wasn't bad enough, there was a huge, scaly blue demon complete with spiral horns walking in behind her.

"Good evening, Lindsey," Lilah said.

"Lilah," He grunted in return. "What do you want?"

"Oh, I don't want anything from you. I'm just here to watch."

"Watch what?" Lindsey snarled.

"Your reaction, of course. Holland is on his way to your office now, and I hear he has a 'surprise' for you, Lindsey," Lilah smiled insincerely.

Lindsey paused to think. Holland had commended him for what had happened earlier, so what was his 'surprise'?

"Who's your blue friend?" Lindsey asked.

"My new bodyguard," Lilah replied. "Holland tells me that there have been threats on my life because of the work I've been doing."

"Bullshit," Lindsey spat. He didn't care about swearing around Lilah. He had always made his dislike for the other lawyer known.

"Language, Lindsey," She admonished him. God, he hated how she talked down to him. Before he could say any more in retaliation, his boss walked in.

"Good evening, Lindsey," Holland said.

"Good evening," Lindsey replied coolly.

"I assume Lilah has told you about your current circumstances?" Holland asked.

"Lilah has said no such thing, sir," Lindsey responded, not looking at Lilah to avoid laughing at the dirty look she was undoubtedly shooting him.

"After the incident with Angel and the Scroll of Anatole, we have good reason to believe that your life might be in danger, from Angel and others," Holland informed him gravely. Lindsey said nothing; just waited for Holland to continue.

"As you can see, I've assigned a bodyguard to Lilah. I've assigned one to you as well, but traffic has made their arrival slower. I'm sure they'll be here any moment," He finished. "Now you'll be able to rest in peace, without fear of assassins." Holland smiled, as if it was a grand thing he did.

"Sir, I can take care of myself," Lindsey interjected. Lilah snorted. He shot her a look and continued. "I don't think I'll need a personal guard."

"Lindsey," Holland said in a voice that implied he was acting like a stubborn child. "It's for your own good." His pager buzzed. "I believe they're here now."

Sure enough, Lindsey heard a cacophony of sounds outside in the hall. He could hear raised voices, muffled punches, and people scrabbling around. Suddenly, a human form was pushed through the door, followed by two of Wolfram and Hart's security guards.

The person pulled themselves off the floor, before being grabbed from behind by the security guards. They put the person in a headlock, showing off their face.

It was young woman, with a pale, thin face dotted with reddish freckles. She had icy blue gray eyes, lined with black kohl. There was a thin silver hoop piercing in her right eyebrow, and a small stud sparkled in her nose. She had hair as short as a boy's, dyed a garish black that did not match the dark red of her eyebrows.

"Let go of me!" She snarled, and raised an arm to point at Holland. "He hired me! Ask him!"

The guard holding her looked at Holland to confirm this, and before he could respond, the girl thrust her elbow into his gut, doubling him over. She twisted around and punched him in the face, then slithered like a snake out of his grasp. She eyed the occupants of the room.

The blue demon moved in front of Lilah, giving her protection she gladly took. Holland seemed unfazed, and Lindsey just crossed his arms and leaned back on his desk.

"Blaire Dearg?" Holland asked.

"Bless you," Lindsey said.

The girl rolled her eyes. "That's my name." The other guard was sneaking up on her. She whirled around and roundhouse-kicked him in the chest. He staggered backwards. "Please tell your knucklehead security that you hired me. They don't seem to take my word for it," She said.

"I thought you would be…bigger," Holland said. "And perhaps male. I don't think our researchers did a good job looking you up."

"Good," The girl said, pleasantly surprised by the fact that the most powerful firm on the West Coast didn't have the resources to find out her whole story.

"It's a pleasure meeting you," Holland said, crossing the room to shake her hand. She returned the handshake, and withdrew her hand as quickly as possible. "Lindsey, Lilah, meet Blaire Dearg. Ms. Dearg, meet my employees, Lindsey McDonald and Lilah Morgan," He said. Lilah gave her a wave, and Lindsey treated her to a rare McDonald smile.

Blaire bared her teeth in a feral semblance of a smile at the lawyers. "Pleasure meeting you," She said. "Which one am I babysitting?" Lilah snickered, and Lindsey's smile dropped. He stepped forward.

"This isn't the bodyguard you've hired for me, is it?" He asked Holland, eyes wide.

"Indeed, _she_ is," Holland replied. "She's the best there is."

"Thank you, Mr. Manners," Blaire said with a low chuckle.

"You can't expect me to be alright with a bodyguard, I can take care of myself!" Lindsey exclaimed. "Sir," He added as an afterthought. "Especially not a little girl."

"I'm not a little girl, Mr. McDonald," Blaire grinned, amused by his reaction. She had caught a hint of an accent in his low, rough voice. It was pleasing for her to hear. "There's more to me than meets the eye." She looked to Holland. "You had me come here for a job. If that's not the case, then I expect some reimbursement for my trouble of coming all the way down to LA."

"You still have the job, Ms. Dearg," Holland said. "Mr. McDonald is still adjusting to the idea."

"I'm standing right here!" Lindsey nearly shouted. He looked at Blaire. "Listen, sweetheart, I'm sorry, but I don't need your help."

Blaire frowned. "Don't call me sweetheart, cowboy. And it doesn't matter to me. Whatever happens, I'm planning on walking out of here with some money. Doesn't matter how." She looked pointedly at Holland.

He looked more than a little comfortable. An already unsettling girl who could take him in a second wanted money, and his employee was refusing her services. The lawyer part of him didn't want to have to pay her without getting his money's worth, but he knew that Lindsey could make this very difficult. Then he noticed that Blaire was eyeing the guards standing by the door, and he realized that he could deal with Lindsey easier than he could deal with her.

He put on a broad, fake smile. "No worries, Blaire. You're still under our employment for the time being." He pulled out a stack of papers from his briefcase. "Come sign your contract."

As Blaire walked past Lindsey, she could almost feel the heat coming off of him. He was visibly fuming.

"Could I trade with Lilah?" He asked, exasperated.

Lilah looked at her blue demon guard. "This one's mine!" She exclaimed.

Holland sighed, and Blaire chuckled. Everyone looked at her. She said nothing, but continued to read through the contracts. Finally she signed them, with a messy flourish. She handed the stack back to Holland, who flipped through them to make sure she signed the appropriate places.

"Thank you, Ms. Dearg. I'm glad to have the chance to work with you," He said.

"I'm not," Lindsey muttered.

"Get used to it, cowboy," Blaire said, and then addressed Holland. "Just so we're on the same page, it is five thousand U.S. dollars up front, and then another five when you decide your boy is in the clear, correct?" She asked.

"That is correct, Ms. Dearg," Holland confirmed.

"Call me Blaire. I have never had the patience for that sort of thing."

"Don't I have any say in this?" Lindsey demanded.

"Hey, you're stuck with me now, unless you can convince Holland to give me my money early," Blaire told him.

"Until certain… problems are eliminated, it's safer to have you guarded, Lindsey," Holland said. "It's not a problem with Lilah."

"That's because Lilah's a coward!" Lindsey cried. Blaire gave a barking laugh. "I can take care of myself!" He reiterated.

"This conversation is over, Lindsey," Holland said. "Blaire is your guard detail 24/7 until further notice. Good night, everyone. I'll see you all in the morning." And with that, he left, the two security guards following behind him.

There was a brief uncomfortable silence, before Blaire suddenly started making these strange growling noises. Lindsey's eyebrows shot up as Lilah's blue demon guard responded in like.

The two conversed for a few moments, until Blaire noticed Lindsey and Lilah's reaction. "I speak-"She growled again.

"Of course you do," Lindsey said, rubbing his forehead with his left hand.

Blaire and the demon growled at each other for a while longer. "He says he name is-"She snarled. "But that he'll respond to Norman."

Lindsey, still resting his head in his palm, looked up. "Thank you for that useless bit of information, Ms. Dearg."

"Blaire," She said. "My name is Blaire. And it is a perfectly useful bit of information, thank _you_ very much." She then proceeded to walk completely around the room, paying special attention to the windows and door. "This room bugged?" She asked.

"Not to my knowledge," Lindsey replied.

Lilah cleared her throat. "While this has been fun, I have work to do." She turned and walked out, Norman following behind her.

"I wonder what Holland paid the demon," Blaire said absentmindedly. "They have no interest in material possessions or money."

"Holland probably promised him a truckload of goats if Lilah makes it through the week. I hope he fails," Lindsey said bitterly.

"Not too fond of Ms. Morgan, are you, Mr. McDonald?" Blaire smirked.

"'Not too fond' is an understatement, sweetheart," He replied, throwing her a quick grin before sitting at his desk and pulling out more paper. "You got something to keep yourself entertained? I got a few things to finish up."

"Let me step out for a minute," She said, and walked to his desk, pulling out a small revolver. "I trust that you can use this?"

Lindsey looked at the gun. "Yes, ma'am," He said with a grin, pulling the gun closer.

"I'll be back soon. Don't die." Blaire said. Then she was gone.

Lindsey leaned back in his chair, examining the revolver Blaire had left. It was a Taurus Model 94 revolver. He popped out the cylinder to see that it was full of bullets. Upon examination, he noticed that every bullet had a cross carved into the side.

He pondered his new guard. Blaire Dearg… He said the name aloud, letting the syllables roll off his tongue. He recalled that she looked to be about 5' 4"; pretty short. But she had taken down the Wolfram and Hart security cronies like they weren't twice her size. She was fast. She was smart. But what would the other employees of Wolfram and Hart think of her? Worse, what would they think of _him_? Lindsey McDonald, the lawyer brave enough to hide beneath a little girl. He knew that image was important here, and his was about to be wrecked. He knew it wasn't Holland's fault; he even said that he didn't really know who this girl was.

Lindsey took a breath. He was a lawyer. He could find a way around this.

"Thinking pretty hard there; aren't you?" Lindsey jumped. He was so engrossed in his thoughts that he did not notice Blaire enter the room and walk behind him with a black Jansport backpack slung over her shoulder.

"Want your gun back?" Lindsey drawled. Blaire seemed to consider for a minute, then rummaged around in her backpack. She drew out a side holster and passed it to Lindsey.

"If you keep it on you at all times and don't do anything stupid, you can keep it," She finally decided.

"Thanks," Lindsey said, surprised by the gift. Blaire nodded in return, and pulled out a book. She sat in the chair opposite Lindsey's desk and began to read. Lindsey tried to focus on his work, but his hand- wrist – _stump_ was starting to really hurt. He gave a quiet grunt of pain.

Blaire looked up and raised an eyebrow in question, but said nothing. Lindsey ignored her. She shrugged and went back to reading. They were in the office for another hour before Lindsey stood and gathered his things. Blaire was on her feet in an instant, backpack on her back in another. She watched as Lindsey affixed his holster to his belt and slid the Taurus into it. He put on his suit jacket, taking care to cover the gun.

"Ready?" She asked him quietly. It seemed wrong to be talking loudly, for some reason.

"Yeah," Lindsey replied, and led Blaire into the hall, locking his office door behind him.

"I don't think that you should drive your car home tonight," She said. "If there's anyone watching you, they would see you leaving with me. I don't want the whole world to know that I've been hired as your personal detail."

_Neither do I,_ Lindsey thought. "So, I leave my car here tonight, but then drive it home tomorrow?"

"Not exactly," Blaire smiled crookedly. "Just trust me." They walked in silence until they reached the garage. Blaire walked up to a black 1990 Harley Davidson motorcycle.

"I was brought here by taxi. A friend of mine drove the bike here. I paid the cab to take my friend back, and they left me the bike. My friend was wearing a helmet, so anyone watching could not know their identity. We ride out wearing helmets, your car stays in the lot; it's gonna confuse some people. It'll be fun," She said.

"You really thought that out," Lindsey remarked.

"It's what I do." She tossed him one of the helmets that were perched on the seat, before pulling the other over her own head and straddling the seat. She kicked the engine to life, and flipped her helmet's visor up to look at Lindsey. "You coming?"

"I'm not riding bitch," He said. Blaire snorted.

"My bike, my rules, Mr. McDonald," She grinned. "It's not like you can drive it with one hand, cowboy. Hop on."

He sighed as he sat behind her on the seat and pulled his helmet on.

"Hold on tight," Blaire said as she kicked the bike into gear. The bike shot forward, and Lindsey rushed to wrap his good arm around Blaire's waist.

Lindsey spoke the directions to his apartment in her ear. He wasn't sure if she heard him at all, but they arrived at his building nonetheless, making him wonder if she had super hearing or just read Wolfram and Hart's profile on him. Part of him hoped it was the latter.

When they pulled into the lot and parked, Blaire jumped off the bike and pulled a Glock 19 out of her backpack. She put it in the waistband of the back of her jeans.

"Let's go," She said. Lindsey showed her the way to his rooms, but Blaire insisted on walking in front of him, then clearing the room with her gun before letting him walk in.

"You really think someone's gonna try to kill me?" Lindsey asked.

"Your boss does. He's paying me to keep you alive, whether there's an actual threat or not," Blaire said. "Now, is there any possibility that this place is bugged? Sounds crazy, but you know how it is."

"I'm not sure!" How could she expect him to know? Lindsey looked to his fridge in search of a beer. When he turned around, Blaire was bent over looking underneath a table, in search of a bug. Lindsey looked appreciatively at her backside, enjoying the view.

She stood up and turned to face him. "I think we're good," She said.

"Beer?" He offered in reply.

"Not when I'm on the job, cowboy," Blaire responded.

"You hungry?" Lindsey asked.

"A bit," Blaire confessed. "What did you have in mind?"

"Chinese, if that's okay with you."

"Anything's good." Blaire waited while Lindsey called the order in. When he was done, she said, "Remind me to check if your line's been tapped recently."

"I don't think that's necessary. I really don't think that my life is in danger," Lindsey explained, going into lawyer mode with his complacent voice. "See, you really don't need to be here, sweetheart. I can arrange for you to get a hotel room tonight, and we can talk to Holland tomorrow. If you want, I'll even buy you a plane ticket out of the state, country, whatever."

"Don't call me sweetheart. I don't know what goes on at your evil law firm; I just know that your boss is paying me to keep you in one piece. Well, at least keep the pieces you have left in one place." She paused. "How did you lose your hand, anyway?"

"It's a long story."

"I have time, Mr. McDonald."

Lindsey sat on the couch, and motioned to Blaire to sit as well.

"Well, you know what our firm is. Involved in some dark stuff. See, we had to resurrect this girl, Darla, her name is. We needed this scroll to do it. We-"

"What was the scroll called?" Blaire interrupted.

"It was the Scroll of Anatole," Lindsey continued. "One of our enemies wanted the scroll. He attacked when we were performing the ritual, and I ended up finishing the ritual. I was in the process of burning the scroll when he threw a scythe. It sliced my hand clean off."

"What makes you think this enemy has it out for you?" Blaire questioned.

Lindsey took a breath. "I betrayed him."

Blaire tilted her head. "And how's that?"

Lindsey looked her in the eye. "I had… a crisis."

Blaire returned his gaze steadily. "Well, that's not vague at all."

Lindsey closed his eyes. "There were… these kids. Wolfram and Hart sent an assassin to kill them. I've done a lot of bad things, or, at least organized bad things, but I've never let anyone hurt children. They're innocent, you know?" Blaire nodded and let him continue. "Anyways, I thought that having little kids murdered was crossing a line. So, I went and I saw this enemy of Wolfram and Hart's."

"Did this enemy have a name?" Blaire inquired.

Lindsey hesitated. "Angel," He finally said. "A vampire."

Blaire let out her breath in a _whoosh_ of air, and leaned back against the couch cushions. She didn't look Lindsey in the eye as she told him to continue.

"I go see Angel, and I tell him I want out, and that we need to save the kids. He agrees, and we develop a plan to steal files on the children, and a few more, for my own reasons."

"Insurance," Blaire interjected. "You took files so that Wolfram and Hart wouldn't kill you. They wouldn't kill you knowing files of theirs were still out there, or worse, with Angel."

"Yeah. We got the files, and Angel stole the scroll. It didn't matter to me at the time. Angel had his girl decode the files, and I made copies. We learned where the kids were, and we left." He shrugged. "Angel killed the assassin, and we delivered the kids to their mentor. And that was that."

"You're not telling me something," Blaire said.

Lindsey sighed. "Angel and I talked. He said that I need to make a choice. To him, I picked the wrong one. I went back to Wolfram and Hart, and got a promotion."

"Why do you think this betrayal made Angel want to kill you?" Blaire asked.

"Because now he knows," Lindsey said. "He knows what side I'm on. He knows that I'm evil. And his job- his job is to eliminate all the evil in this city." He gave a chuckle. "Good luck to him."

The doorbell buzzed. Lindsey started, and Blaire jumped to her feet. She was at the door in a microsecond. She looked out the peephole, and motioned Lindsey over. She rubbed her fingers together, indicating cash. He passed her a twenty, and she motioned for him to get behind her. He did. She stepped out and opened the door, concealing Lindsey from sight.

The Chinese delivery man handed her a brown paper bag with the receipt stapled to it in exchange for her twenty.

"Thank you," She said cordially. "Have a nice evening."

"You too, ma'am," The man said, mangling the words with his accent. He departed down the hall once again.

She brought the bag to the table.

"That was a little bit much, wasn't it, sweetheart?" Lindsey asked.

"You saw a harmless Chinese guy delivering your dinner. I saw a potential threat. Maybe he was a demon in a human host, or possibly wearing a glamour. Maybe he was a vampire. Maybe he was a good old-fashioned hit man. You never know, cowboy," Blaire said, before rummaging in the bag. "Well, the food smells pretty good, so I'm going to assume that he just was a delivery guy. You win this round."

"You really do see a threat around every corner, don't you? Great. Holland saddled me with a paranoid little girl." He reached over to get into the bag. Blaire grabbed his hand, dug her thumb into a pressure point, and twisted.

"I've told you, I'm not a little girl," She hissed. "Is that clear? Or do I have to hurt you?"

She let Lindsey wrench his hand out of her grasp.

"Easy there, sweetheart. Don't get all defensive on me now," He said, rubbing his wrist. "And easy on the hand. It's the only one I got left."

Blaire ignored that. "Where are your plates and silverware?" Lindsey pointed to a cupboard. Blaire took out two plates and two forks. She passed Lindsey his plate and sat down at the table. Before opening a container, she watched Lindsey struggle with his container.

"Need a hand?" She asked. Lindsey shot her a glare. "Of course you do," She answered herself before reaching for the Chinese container and opening it.

"I'm not a child," Lindsey said.

"You're not handicapped, you're-"

"Finish that sentence and I'm throwing you out the window," Lindsey threatened in his low voice.

"You and what arm-…y?" Blaire asked, smirking.

"You're insufferable," Lindsey stated, before taking a bite of pork.

"You're a lawyer," Blaire retorted, as if that justified it.

"Are you normally this talkative with your other clients?" Lindsey wanted to know. Blaire paused to finish chewing before responding.

"Depends if I think they're worth talking to. I'm sure you have interesting things to say, being an evil lawyer who sold your soul for a briefcase and an Armani suit." That seemed to strike a nerve with Lindsey. He replied in a low tone.

"You don't understand what I've been through, what my childhood was like. I had to be better than everyone else to get out of there. I don't care about what I've done or what I'm going to do in the future. I just know that I'm not going back to where I was," Lindsey said.

"You're lying," Blaire accused, surprising him. She continued. "I can see it in your eyes, Mr. McDonald. You do care. Not enough, I guess."

Lindsey pushed his chair back from the table and stood. "Who the hell do you think you are?"

Blaire looked at him.

"You just barge into my life, a complete stranger that Holland's dropped on me, God knows why. I don't need you or your opinions. I don't know you and you don't know me, yet you criticize me like you're my own damn judge, jury, and executioner! What the hell are you getting out of this, anyways?" Lindsey shouted. He waited, breathing heavily, and waited for Blaire to reply.

She rose slowly and spoke with a deadly calmness about her. "Do you think I asked for this, Mr. McDonald?" She was dangerously quiet. "Do you think that I wanted to work for Wolfram and Hart? Do you really think that I would voluntarily take a job with the Devil Incarnate, Holland Manners? He threatened my friends. My family. Me. He said he'd send his people for me if I didn't get on the private plane he sent for me. And then he proceeded to tell me what he wanted, and that he could make it worth my while. What he was really saying, was, you'll do this because I'm telling you to. You're lucky I'm giving you money on top of that. What could I say? No thanks, Mr. Manners, now go ahead and kidnap, torture and/or murder everyone I care about? Real likely. Now, I'm sorry I 'judged' you. I'm just a little bit prejudiced against people like you, and Manners, and the Morgan chick, who manipulate and threaten to get their own way."

Her eyes flashed. "You did betray Angel. He probably is coming after you. Out of everything you are a traitor is definitely the worst. Actually, the fact that you betrayed him isn't surprising. It seems that backstabbing is common among 'your' people." She paused to let that sink in.

"Manners didn't hire me because I'm a bodyguard. Truth is, I'm not a bodyguard. I'm a professional assassin, and I've had plenty of time to get as good as I am. Holland wants me to keep an eye on you. He was not happy that you lost the Scroll of Anatole. I'm sure that when you finally, really, truly, absolutely screw something up, Holland will give me the command to take you out," She paused to gouge his reaction. "And you know that I'd do it," She finished quietly. "So don't start with me. And don't think I'm going to whack you in your sleep, now. For the moment, Holland thinks you're more useful alive."

Lindsey was silent. "He would really have you kill me?" He asked incredulously.

"Yes! Yes he would! Were you listening at all?" Blaire shouted, finally losing her temper. She stopped and drew in a shaky breath. "All of Wolfram and Hart's lawyers are cutthroat and ruthless beings. You can't trust them. What you can do, is just keep moving forward. Keep your head down. Do whatever it is you do, but do it quietly."

Lindsey looked speechless. Then he shook his head. "We're done with this conversation," He said.

"Good," Blaire replied. They sat back down and finished the meal in silence.

Blaire had put the leftovers in the fridge and was washing the two dishes as Lindsey sat, unmoving at the table, deep in thought.

"I don't trust you," He finally said.

"Good," Blaire said, not looking at him. "Only a fool would trust me after only knowing me for a day."

"No…yes. What I mean is, how do I know that what you've said is true?"

Blaire shrugged. "I've got nothing to gain by lying to you. You don't need to believe me if you don't want to."

But deep down, Lindsey did believe her. He really didn't want to. Because, believing her meant accepting that Holland believed he was so expendable. And he knew that he was not expendable.

"It's getting late, sweetheart," Lindsey said when she finished with the dishes. "I don't know about you, but I'm tired."

She looked at him questioningly. "What?"

"I'm going to sleep. You can have the couch or the floor. Your choice."

"Wait… what?"

"What don't you understand?" Lindsey didn't get what was so incomprehensible about what he was saying.

"You're telling me I can sleep?" Blaire asked.

"Um, yes."

She tilted her head. "Most of my clients don't want me to sleep. They really meant it when they say they want 24/7 protection. Holland said 24/7 as well."

"What use are you gonna be when you're suffering from a lack of sleep? If you really want to stay up, just do me a favor and take a short nap or something. I don't need you passing out at the firm tomorrow; we're going to be dealing with something dangerous," Lindsey informed her.

Blaire grinned like a Cheshire cat. "There's not a lot out there that's more dangerous than me," She assured Lindsey.

"We'll see," He grunted. "Do you need to use my bathroom?"

"That'd be nice," Blaire replied. Lindsey pointed to a door inside his bedroom. She slung her backpack over her shoulder and walked into his room, quickly memorizing the visible contents. An alarm clock on the nightstand, purple sheets on the king size bed, and blackout shades on the windows. She went into the bathroom and shut the door behind her.

Blaire opened her backpack, and took out a toiletries bag. She had mini bottles of shampoo, conditioner, and facial cleanser. After taking out the hoop in her brow and the stud in her nose, she thoroughly washed her face. She looked in the mirror, and ran a hand through her short, black-dyed hair. She figured she'd use a different identity in LA, and didn't need the coloring to fit an alias anymore. She turned Lindsey's shower on full blast, and quickly stripped down, making sure there was a towel nearby.

She stayed in the shower only long enough to clean her body and wash the repulsive black dye out of her hair. Stepping out of the shower, she looked in the mirror again, pleased to see that her hair had returned to its original red color. She towel-dried her short hair, running her fingers through it to make it stand on end. She quickly pulled on a grey tank top, boy short underwear, and basketball shorts. She threw her stuff back into her backpack, and walked out of the bathroom.

Lindsey was sitting on his bed, struggling with gauze bandages, antiseptic, clean rags, and medical tape. He was obviously trying to bandage his hand, but he wasn't getting very far.

"Let me help you," Blaire offered.

"I can handle it," Lindsey snarled, then hissed as his attempts pulled on a stitch. "What the hell happened to your hair?"

"I washed the dye out, Mr. McDumbass. Now let me help you."

"I can take care of it!"

"Man up and accept help when you need it," Blaire snapped as she sat down on the bed on his right side.

"I don't need help!" Lindsey insisted.

"I'm going to slap you," Blaire said lightly. "Now let me see your arm." He let her take his arm and push up his sleeve.

"Is Wolfram and Hart paying for a prosthetic hand?" Blaire asked as she gently unwound the dressing on his wrist.

"When it heals, I'm getting a plastic replacement, that's all I know," Lindsey said, wincing as the air met his exposed wound.

Blaire got up and threw out the slightly bloody gauze in the kitchen, then washed her hands before returning.

She sat back down at Lindsey's side, picking up the hydrogen peroxide and a clean rag. Holding the rag under his wrist, Blaire stopped what she was doing to warn Lindsey. "This might hurt," She said. "I'll pour it on three. One…" She dumped a good amount of the brown bottle over his wrist, catching the run-off with the rag. Lindsey bit his lip to keep from shouting while Blaire gently pressed the hydrogen peroxide-soaked rag on the broken flesh of his wrist.

"You seem like you know what you're doing," Lindsey said. Blaire removed the rag and began to bind his wrist with gauze. He noticed a silver chain around her neck, the pendant hidden in her shirt.

"I should hope so," She said absently. "I've patched up myself and others enough times to get a pretty good idea of what needs to be done." She taped the gauze to itself. "Finished. Now, was that so hard?"

"What would I do without you?" Lindsey asked sarcastically.

"Well, you'd still be trying to figure out how get the gauze off," Blaire told him.

"Thanks, sweetheart. I'm going to try to get some sleep now," He said, standing up to put away his medical materials. "You should, too," He reminded her. She walked into his bathroom, and he watched as she dumped hydrogen peroxide on her hands to kill anything she might have picked up from cleaning and bandaging his wrist.

"I'm not your sweetheart," She called from the bathroom. "And I think I'm going to stay up a bit longer, just clean my guns and whatnot. Sleep tight, Mr. McDonald," She said as she walked out of the bathroom. He stood in front of her.

"You know, you can just call me Lindsey, sweetheart," He said.

"Yes, but being snarky and saying 'Mr. McDonald' makes me laugh inside," She told him with a completely straight face.

"You're a real head case, you know that?" He replied, turning as she walked around him.

"Are you a psychologist? Don't trouble yourself by thinking about my mental state," She recommended.

Lindsey watched her as she walked out of the room, studying her wiry arms, muscled shoulders, and toned calves. He noticed a dragon tattoo on her right shoulder blade. The black design curled up her neck and over the top of her shoulder. It was very detailed; he wondered if it hurt for her to have it done. Probably not; he concluded. She seemed tough as nails. His eyes traveled up her neck to that fiery red hair. Lilah would shit bricks.

**Did you like? Please review and message to tell me what you liked, what you disliked, and what you'd like to see in the next chapter! I know it was long, but bear with me. I had to start it out right.**


	2. Darla

**If you're reading this, please just leave me a really short review. I want to know what you think. I haven't written in a while, and I don't think that's made me any better… Anyways, enjoy, and remember that I own nothing besides Blaire. **

Blaire had sat down on Lindsey's couch with her backpack and pulled out her Glock. She cleaned it carefully, even though it hadn't been fired. She also wiped down the blades of her throwing knives and daggers, ignoring the fact that they were clean as well. It was more of a calming relaxation process than anything.

Ten minutes later, she felt her shoulders loosen as she unwound. Then, a loud thump and a clatter in Lindsey's bedroom sent her running, dagger clutched in her hand. She burst into the room, brandishing her knife, looking for something to fight. Instead, she found the one-handed lawyer sprawled on the ground on top of his nightstand, arm pulled halfway through his dress shirt and drawn halfway over his head.

"Holy hell," Blaire said, looking down on Lindsey as he struggled to his feet. "Did I not just get through telling you it's ok to ask for help?" She grabbed his collar and hauled him up.

"This was one thing I thought I could handle," Lindsey growled as she tugged on his shirt, straightening it out. Her eyes were about level with his chin.

"And look how that worked out," Blaire retorted as she deftly unbuttoned his dress shirt. "You're going to pull your stitches," She informed him.

"Haven't yet," Lindsey reminded her as she pushed his shirt off his shoulders and carefully slid the sleeve over his bandage. He grinned as her flaming hair brushed his face.

Blaire tried to ignore his muscular chest and arms, but felt the blush rise to her face anyways. Such was the penalty for being born to the Northern Tribe of Pasty White People. She turned to pick up the nightstand to hide her face.

"Goodnight, then," She said, and walked out. She flopped on the couch, weapons nearby, and slept dreamlessly.

In another part of the city, the vampire known as Angel sat at Cordelia's kitchen table, either meditating deeply or simply asleep.

A brunette young woman walked into the kitchen. "Angel, did you get the invoice-"She fell to the floor, spasming wildly. Angel leaped to his feet and knelt next to her.

"What do you see?" His asked when she sat up. Wesley and Gunn were making a house call to a home with a poltergeist. They were still trying to get on top of all the people that needed help in the swarm of visions Cordelia ad gotten.

"A ring," Cordelia gasped. "Gold. Has, this, star on it." She drew it in the air with a slightly shaky finger.

"Like a pentagram?" Angel asked gently.

"No… six-pointed. Had a small dot between each point."

"What's its significance?"

"I- I don't know," Cordelia admitted. "I didn't see anyone in trouble, and there weren't any demons." She looked up at Angel. "It didn't…_feel_ like the other visions I've had. It was like, the Powers That Be were just, letting me know that this was important. I think the ring is somewhere in the city," She added.

"I'll get Wesley to look it up when he gets back," Angel assured her. "How are you feeling?" He asked as she pulled herself to sit at the table. It had only been a day since she had come out of the hospital, only a day since Angel had chopped Lindsey's hand off. They were all still waiting for things to go back to normal.

"Getting better," She said, then paused to consider. "This vision didn't really hurt. I got knocked down because it surprised me, but it didn't really hurt," She said.

"Maybe they're getting better," Angel said.

Cordelia snorted. "Very likely. Maybe the Powers were just cutting me a break. Or maybe they really want us to realize the importance of this ring," She suggested.

"I'll make sure to get Wes on it," He told her again. "Now, it's late, get some sleep, Cordy."

The alarm clock beeped loudly and obnoxiously, rousing Lindsey from a deep sleep. When he woke, he smelled cooking. As in, meat cooking. And, damn, did it smell good.

He pulled on a t-shirt to wear with his boxers and shuffled into the kitchen. Blaire was leaning over the stove, cooking what appeared to be bacon.

"Morning," Lindsey said warily with his husky morning voice.

Blaire turned around, sporting a long scratch along her jawline. "It wakes," She said, and turned back to her cooking. "I hope you're hungry." She still wore her tank top, and Lindsey could see a nasty looking bruise opposite her tattoo.

"What happened to you?" He asked incredulously.

"Two Polgara demons," She said. "And how did you sleep?"

"Demons? In my apartment?"

"Actually, in your hallway. I didn't let them get this far," Blaire explained, flipping the bacon.

"Are you hurt?" Lindsey demanded.

"Lindsey, take it easy. This is what I do," She replied, not once looking up from the stove. She turned it off, and began placing the bacon on a plate.

"You should have woken me up or something," Lindsey protested.

Blaire shrugged. "Didn't think it was that important."

"Do you have brain damage?"

"Only a minor amount," Blaire said.

Lindsey ignored that. "Why didn't you think that a demon attack was important enough to wake me up?" He nearly shouted.

"I've already told you, it's what I do," Blaire repeated forcefully. "I don't know if you remember, but I've been _hired_ to protect your helpless arse! So calm your testosterone, Mr. McDonald!" She pushed a plate loaded with bacon, scrambled eggs, and toast in front of him. "Eat!"

The lawyer and the assassin ate in silence for a few minutes.

"That scratch looks pretty bad," Lindsey said to break the silence.

"You should see the other guys," Blaire replied with a crooked grin.

"Where are they?" Lindsey asked, suddenly fearing that this nutcase had left them somewhere for the whole building to see.

"I hauled them to the dumpsters around back," Blaire informed him, before taking another bite of eggs. Lindsey breathed a sigh of relief. He didn't want to have to ask the Wolfram and Hart spell casters to perform an amnesia spell again.

"You didn't think I'd leave them in plain sight, did you?" Blaire raised a fair brow.

"No, it's just-"Lindsey started.

"The fact that you don't know me," Blaire finished, and then nodded in approval. "Good. Don't ever think for a minute that you know me, or that you can assume what I'll do next."

"I'll keep that in mind, sweetheart. We have a big day at the office today; I don't want to be late," He told her. They finished the meal quickly, and Blaire excused herself to get ready and change.

A few minutes later, Lindsey decided to do the same. He walked into his bedroom, assuming Blaire was in his bathroom. He was wrong. She stood with her back to him, shirtless, with her black leather pants low on her boyish hips. He noticed a bloody gash on her side and a bruise on her spine before she turned around, covering her chest.

"Est dampnare! Nullam turpis! Nonne pulsare?" She shouted. Lindsey averted his eyes and nearly threw himself out the door. Blaire ran up to the door and slammed it shut.

Lindsey leaned against the door. "I'm sorry!" he shouted hoarsely. "I thought you were in the bathroom!"

"Donec fatuus! Nonne dixi tibi ne quid praedicere conantur i facies?" She shouted in return.

"What the hell are you saying?"

Blaire seemed to pause. "Sorry, was that Latin?"

"Well, it sure wasn't English!"

"Ah, my bad. Sorry. Unintentional language switch." She pushed the door open, now fully dressed, hitting Lindsey in the face with the door. "Happens when a near about stranger barges in on me while I'm changing!"

Lindsey rubbed his nose. "I said I was sorry," He repeated.

She considered his apology. "Do it again, and I will castrate you with a rusty spoon," She threatened.

"I believe you," Lindsey said, holding his hands in the universal sign for surrender. "Didn't see anything, I swear."

Blaire gave a short nod, and stepped aside to let him enter his room. "Be ready in ten minutes," He told her.

Blaire crossed the room, absently stretching her arms above her head. She bent over and placed her palms flat on the ground, then grabbed her ankles for a better stretch. Had to keep limber. Who knows what would happen later; it's a law firm, after all. She stood straight, and rolled her head from side to side, popping her neck. Dropping to the floor, Blaire beat out fifty push-ups, and rolled over on her back to do fifty sit-ups. Popping back up to her feet, she retrieved her backpack and sat on the couch with her book until Lindsey returned.

She heard a loud noise of frustration from his bedroom. Once again, she sprinted inside, only to find Lindsey wrestling with his clothing. This time, the big bad monster was a patterned tie.

"Damn it!" Lindsey exclaimed. "I'm gonna kill Angel for this!"

"This is entertaining," Blaire said, amused at the amputee's actions. "I could watch you fight your wardrobe all day." Lindsey glared at her, and continued to fuss at his tie. She just grinned.

Finally Lindsey gave up. "Sweetheart, can you help me out?" He said, exasperated.

"Now, was that really so bad?" Blaire asked, smiling broadly. She expertly knotted the tie in a neat Winchester knot. "Now let's go," She urged.

The unlikely companions walked into Wolfram and Hart's shiny lobby half an hour later. Blaire looked around at all the people and demons. The employees were all dressed in expensive suits and shoes, and all the human clients were dressed impeccably in designer brands as well. Blaire felt insignificant and small in her simple black outfit. It consisted of a thin black tee, black leather pants, and combat boots. The woman in the elevator with them wore a luxurious purple silk shirt adorned with pearls, and tall purple heels. She wore diamonds in her ears, on her neck, and on her wrists. Blaire felt like a plain little mouse next to this woman. Blaire defended her feelings of inferiority by thinking to herself that she didn't care about appearances; she simply disliked standing out so much where it would be prudent to go unnoticed.

Blaire and Lindsey exited the elevator at the same time Lilah walked down the hall to her office. She did a double take when she saw the crimson hair of Lindsey's bodyguard.

"Good morning, Miss Dearg," She said cordially, a fake smile plastered on her face. "Good morning, Lindsey." She continued. "I see the assassins have failed."

"I see they didn't even bother going after you," Blaire retorted calmly as she pushed the door open into Lindsey's office, gun in hand, Lilah forgotten already. Lindsey made a face at Lilah as he followed Blaire inside. Suddenly Blaire's gun snapped up, and she pushed Lindsey backwards out the door.

"Put your hands above your head!" She commanded to someone inside the room. A feeble voice replied unintelligibly. "Now!" Blaire snapped.

Lilah pushed her way into the room. "Lindsey, tell your pit-bull to stand down!" She exclaimed. "It's Darla!"

"Blaire, put your gun down," Lindsey said, without the urgency Lilah possessed.

"That's one of the most violent vampires history has seen!" The redhead insisted, pointing her gun at the blonde woman cowering.

"Don't shoot her!" Lilah cried.

"These bullets are imbued with holy water and are etched with crosses," Blaire said through gritted teeth. "They won't kill her, but they'll disable her until I can get a stake."

"She's human now," Lilah informed her. "And she's under the protection of Wolfram and Hart!"

"Doesn't matter," Blaire said coolly, her finger itching towards the trigger. She was a breath away from pulling it when Lindsey came up behind her and squeezed her shoulder, hard.

"Blaire, put the gun down." He hissed in her ear. "There is a man behind us with a gun trained on your head. He is under instruction to kill you if you pull that trigger."

Blaire turned her head, and sure enough, there was a Wolfram and Hart security guard with a pistol aimed right at her. She sighed, and drew her left hand away from her gun, raising it as she slipped her Glock back into the waistband of her pants.

She shrugged Lindsey's hand of her shoulder and turned around. "Sorry," She said noncommittally to the guard. "No worries. I won't shoot her." The guard appeared satisfied, and turned and left before he could hear Blaire's ending statement. "Much."

"Darla is a human now," Lilah repeated. "With a soul. She just came back, and she's extremely disoriented. Her memories are coming back slowly."

"She remembers me," Blaire growled. "I've only nearly killed her three times."

"Who are you?" Darla asked weakly, collapsing in one of Lindsey's chairs.

"Don't fool with me," Blaire threatened.

"She's a _human_," Lilah repeated forcefully.

"I heard you!" Blaire snapped, an Irish accent seeping into her voice. "It doesn't make a difference!"

"Please," Darla pleaded, voice wobbling. "Don't hurt me. I don't- I don't know you."

"You know me," Blaire growled. "I can see it in your eyes, Darla."

"Blaire, calm down," Lindsey said firmly.

"Oh, Mr. McDonald, I am so very calm right now. You have never seen me angry," Blaire said, eyes flashing.

"Lilah, why don't you take Darla into your office?" Lindsey suggested.

Lilah crossed the room to grab Darla gently by the hand. "Come one, Darla." The lawyer led the former vampire out of the room.

"Don't treat her like a child," Blaire said coldly as they exited. "She is over four hundred years old."

When they were out of earshot, Lindsey whirled on the redhead. "What the hell was that?" He hissed. "She's a client! We _need _her!"

"For what? Need her to suck LA dry?" Blaire snarled. "She's evil, Lindsey!"

Lindsey, frustrated, pushed his hand through his hair. "You could've gotten yourself killed!"

"If I had put a bullet in Darla when she was this weak, it would've been worth it. She's an abomination."

Realizing Blaire really didn't care about her own life, Lindsey tried a different route. "What about me?" He tried. "If Darla was killed on my watch, Holland would kill me."

"So?" She snapped, her voice chilling him. She closed her eyes, and suddenly all the tension dissipated. "This isn't going the way I want it to," She said, softening.

"Why do you hate her so much?" Lindsey enquired.

"Don't you people have files on things like this? Or did you just not read them? Do your homework, Mr. McDonald. You'd learn that Darla was a ruthless killer, partnered with your very best friend Angel, who was called Angelus before he had a soul shoved up his arse." Lindsey's blue eyes widened; Blaire knew more than she had let on.

"Then they picked up Drusilla and William Pratt, more commonly known as Spike. Together, the fearsome foursome terrorized Europe like a plague. Nowhere was safe. They murdered their way through brothels and churches alike. Orphanages, too," She added, just to see Lindsey flinch. "Vampire or not, she's still smart, and therefore dangerous. Even in a weakened state, she could still kill you.

Lindsey started, "Sweetheart, I don't think that-"

"No," Blaire interrupted. "When it's your life, I'm going to be the one making the decisions, Mr. McDonald," She said quietly. "It's what I do."

Lindsey passed his hand over his face. "Sweetheart, I don't care anymore. Just… don't kill her, okay?" He asked, at the end of his patience.

"If she makes an attempt on your life, I'm bound by Holland's contract to take her out," She reminded him.

"I'll let her know," Lindsey said. "Now, I'm going to have her come back in. Try not to scare her."

"Did you not hear anything I just said?"

Back at Cordelia's apartment, the sleuths of Angel Investigations crowded around a musty old book. The retired Watcher, Wesley Windham-Pryce, was pointing to a picture that matched Cordelia's description of the ring.

"Is this it?" He asked in his heavy English accent.

"That's the one," Cordelia confirmed.

"What is it?" Angel asked.

"It's called… The Seal of Solomon. As in, the biblical King Solomon. It's his signet."

"What does it do?" Angel inquired bluntly. Wes looked up.

"It gives the wearer complete control over all demons," He said quietly.

"So, does that mean we have King Solomon walking about in our city?" Cordelia asked incredulously.

"No, no," Wes shook his head. "Solomon is quite dead. Somebody has the ring. Do you know what this means?" He asked Angel. "If we got this ring…"

Angel nodded; the magnitude of this discovery was not lost on him.

"We'd never have to work again," Cordelia said, her eyes lighting up. "Instead of staking some vamps, we could just command them to… go somewhere else!"

"That and so much more," Wes said seriously. "The possibilities are endless, if we can manage to get our hands on the ring."

"But if someone or something evil gets it…" Angel said.

"They could mass an army consisting of every single demon on earth," Wes finished.

Cordelia's head snapped up as a thought occurred to her. "Angel, whoever has this ring, could control _you_."

"We've got to find this ring," Angel announced.

**So, how do you like it? If you are reading this, just leave a quick comment, with your opinion on what's good, what sucks, and what you'd like to see in other chapters. Thanks!**


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